


Light Me Up From the Inside Out

by StardustDreamMate



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Orphanage, Bad childhoods, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Loving Marriage, Mentioned suicide, Mentions of past abuse, Multi, Parenthood, Raising children/teenagers, but it's run by them, found family of sorts, lots of love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28822386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StardustDreamMate/pseuds/StardustDreamMate
Summary: Where Jaemin is the candle that brings the light to the world, Jeno is the mirror that reflects it back, an equal amount of love and kindness but delivered in a quieter, sweeter way. Even when he's a little lost, a little unsure, Renjun has never been more in love with them and the light they bring to the world.(Or, through the years, Renjun, Jeno, and Jaemin have raised a lot of broken children and given them the homes and care they need and deserve, and today is no different.)
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Lee Jeno, Huang Ren Jun/Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin, Huang Ren Jun/Na Jaemin
Comments: 12
Kudos: 50





	Light Me Up From the Inside Out

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, lovelies~ I read a pretty quote and felt the extreme urge to have NoRenMin raise children, so here we are! I'm pretty much 100% sure that there is NO real-life soundness to the type of orphanage they run, but in this world it works, so please just suspend your disbelief >.<
> 
> While most of this is sweet, caring fluff, please do keep in mind that Renjun, Jeno, and Jaemin raise children from backgrounds that were unsafe and hazardous to their well-beings, so there are quite a few mentioned potential triggers for readers who are sensitive to these things. They're all right under this notice in bold. I can promise that nothing is graphic and that _everything_ except the second-hand panic attack are mentioned in passing and that nothing else happens on-screen. Nevertheless, if these triggers could harm you, please click away because I'd hate for anyone to be hurt by this;; <3
> 
> This is a work of fiction, and none of the depictions of idols in this piece are realistic or accurate, nor are they presented with any inside knowledge of the people these characters are based on. I don't speak for or represent the NCT members in any way, and I mean them all zero harm. Again, this is a work of fiction, please don't take anything too seriously. 
> 
> **TWs: Panic attack (not graphic; based on a nightmare), mentioned intentional overdose/suicide (and past drug use), implied past harassment/assault, implied toxicity of purity culture, mentioned homophobia, trypanophobia (fear of needles and injections)**

_"There are two ways to spread light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it."_

_Edith Wharton_

———

It’s very quiet today. 

The thought isn’t particularly concerning, but it prompts Renjun to turn over in bed and take the sheets with him, rolling over until he reaches the wall. The considerable lack of warmth and strong arms to hold him only draw him further out of sleep, and begrudgingly, he opens his eyes to greet the new day with a scowl and a frown. 

To his pleasant surprise, he’s not entirely alone in bed on this lovely, unusual morning, and it wipes the frown off his face quite quickly. Jaemin is nestled in bed with him, sound asleep with his hair pointing every which direction and fluffing with each breath he takes. He’s nowhere near the picture of grace he usually presents, but Renjun’s endeared nonetheless as he wipes away a little of the spit that’s collected at the corner of his mouth with the edge of his sleeve. 

In sleep, Renjun knows people are supposed to look softer, gentler, more relaxed than usual, but Jaemin’s always looked more guarded to him at night when the shadows do well to overtake his light. He sleeps like a mummy wrapped up and embalmed in sheets, body curled tight around himself as if to protect himself from the things that inhabit the night. 

His eyebrows are nearly permanently creased in sleep, forming that thin wrinkle between his eyes that Renjun always smoothes out with a gentle finger and quiet reassurances, and his eyes always flirt around under his eyelids no matter how deep his sleep is, looking around for something he’s always trying to find. 

When they take in a new kid, Jaemin’s rest always looks worse, more violent, perhaps, like the lives of the children they take in off the streets. His sideburns tend to thin as he pulls at them more, and his jaw is often clenched more than not, awake or asleep, but Renjun will always adore the light that never ceases to emanate out of him, even when his sleep is painful and his consciousness is heavy. 

Jaemin is almost always the first face the kids see when they arrive. His bright eyes and effervescent smile make the first impression on the hurt, suffering children who fall into their arms, and he almost always dazzles them all. 

In Renjun’s opinion, Jaemin is a candle. 

He sheds light upon the world when the shadows creep too close, and although he may waver, he can always be lit again to blaze a new fiery trail. Jaemin protects the innocent from a world that’s already forced them to grow up far too early with his shining torch of passion and kindness, and it touches upon everyone he meets. 

But the kids...he _changes_ them. 

Renjun has seen the most traumatized of kids fall into Jaemin’s arms in under a day, seeking the warm safety of arms that promise to protect them and keep it, too. The soul of sunshine within him is a beacon, and the children seem to be able to sense his sincerity because, try as he might, Renjun has never been able to click with them as well as Jaemin does. 

The little ones call for Jaemin when their pasts nip at their heels in the dead of night, and the older ones talk to Jaemin about their hopes, their fears, and their dreams. He’s always had a way with people, but children were Jaemin’s first love before even Renjun himself, and it shows in the way he cares for them. 

Learning new dishes to make them smile, teaching the littles how to colour and read, buying books for the teenagers to homeschool with until they can get back on their feet or tutoring them when school becomes too gruelling. Kissing bruises and cleaning wounds with gentle, caring hands and earnest eyes that peer through your soul. Bright, white goodness that exudes out of his every pore and his generosity knows no limits when it comes to giving what he can to those who need him. 

_I was born lucky,_ Jaemin always tells him, a bashful smile on his lips. _I was born with a home and a loving family and luck that brought us all the money in the world. What better to do with it than give it back to those who deserve it more than I do?_

Renjun thinks that maybe, fate has been kind to him too, to allow him to meet this beautiful man, inside and out, and share in the light he brings. 

Pressing a kiss to Jaemin’s forehead comes without thinking, warm skin against slightly-chapped lips, and Renjun smiles fondly when Jaemin’s nose scrunches a little but he doesn’t wake. 

Crawling over Jaemin without waking him poses a bit of a challenge, but Renjun manages quite neatly if he says so himself, rolling over his husband with an ease that’s anything but practised. 

He slips into the bathroom on quiet, tip-toeing feet, and when he sees the clothes laid out on the counter for him, his soft smile only widens tenfold. 

Jeno’s left him a baby blue hoodie of his and a pair of black sweats to wear today, most likely extracted from their closet while he and Jaemin were sound asleep, and when he finds his phone under the pile there’s an unread text from his other partner. Opening it and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes reveals the reason for the calm morning: Jeno’s taken the younger kids to the playground to run around and play football. 

He sends one back with a few hearts and his heartfelt appreciation before changing into his day clothes, heart feeling warm and fuzzy in his chest. 

Where Jaemin is the candle that brings the light to the world, Jeno is the mirror that reflects it back, an equal amount of love and kindness but delivered in a quieter, sweeter way. 

Jeno’s love for the children had always been slightly different than Renjun and Jaemin’s. At first, he’d worked _for_ them and not with them, helping to handle the adoptions and legal paperwork for the kids who decided they were ready to find new lives beyond their past and beyond their present. He had cared for them as well, but his connection had been from the outside looking in, helpful and sweet, but distant. 

And, never one for the spotlight, Jeno hadn’t minded it that way, staying behind the scenes and loving the kids on weekends with candies and playtime rather than constant nurturing care. His job was to find them safe candidates for healthy, loving homes when they were ready, not provide a new one until then. 

Somewhere in there, Renjun and Jaemin’s mutual attraction to Jeno had led to a conversation that had led to a date that had led to Jeno eventually moving in after a lot more dates, and then all of a sudden, he was raising and rescuing kids too, at their side.

And then they were married. 

And now they’re here. 

Renjun had known Jeno had a good heart and a bright personality, but it wasn’t until he watched Jeno hold a newly abandoned baby in his strong, gentle arms that he began to understand just how brilliant that heart’s light was. 

Jeno’s light was a reflection of everyone else’s, in a way. He would take in the best parts of everyone else and build them up with his own sugary sweet goodness until they were enhanced with the light he gave back to them. Jeno’s gift was to give others the best of them by being the best of him in an exchange of care so intricately detailed that it took Renjun years of dating and loving him to wrap his head around. 

He couldn’t comfort the kids as well as Jaemin could when they were upset, and he couldn’t bring their shadows into the light as easily, but he could provide a pillar for them. Jeno was their playmate, in a way, where Jaemin was their caretaker. 

Any game under the sun was Jeno’s domain, and no hug was too long for him. Renjun had seen him hold a five-year-old boy in his arms and on his back for over three hours with no complaint, rocking him back and forth and telling him stories and jokes until a thin, scratchy laugh spilt out. 

So, it makes sense Jeno would take the kids to the playground. They love to be there in the sun where the shadows can’t touch them, and they love to be with Jeno who indulges their wildest fantasies as if he’s seven again as well. 

They had agreed a long time ago that what made the kids happy was usually enough to make them happy as well, but Renjun appreciates his husband ten times more than he did last night for taking the little ones for a while and giving him and Jaemin a reprieve. Really, he appreciates Jeno a little more every single day, but today more so than any other. 

When he slips back out of the bathroom and into the bedroom on his way downstairs to check on the teenagers under his watch, his heart sinks down a little more as he thinks of the girl sprawled out on their couch right now, refusing to sleep in a room with anyone else. 

She’s lived with them for about two weeks now, having been given their name by a homeless shelter nearby, but once she arrived, her armour had settled over whatever brought her to their doorstep at first. 

Hayoon, she told them. She wouldn’t give her age, and she wouldn’t say anything about her past, not that Renjun would ever expect her to, but her stoic silence has started to wear on Jaemin once again. 

He’s always taken other people’s pain as his own responsibility, but he’s working on it. Slowly. 

Renjun steps off the stairs and into their combined living space of the bottom floor. Their house is quite large for three people, but with the kids, it’s never empty and never lonely. The second his feet hit the floor, Hayoon’s eyes snap open and she’s sitting bolt upright on the couch, blanket wrapped around her body where her too-big t-shirt had been slipping. 

“Good morning, Hayoon-ah.” Renjun smiles at her in a way he hopes is friendly enough as he goes to make breakfast for her and the other four teenagers who live under his roof. 

She says nothing back, of course, but he doesn’t mind. In time, she’ll warm up enough to them, and he’s perfectly content to wait until she’s comfortable. 

Her eyes flit around the room every time she enters one, and Renjun can see the way she organizes everything and everyone into some sort of category in her mind, always heading straight for the prime location of surveillance. Her back is always to a wall, and the exit is always in her line of sight. 

Physical touch is the grandest of no’s, and already, she does everything she can to avoid it, even if it means sitting on the bare floor in the corner when they do a group activity. 

Renjun has his suspicions, and he knows Jeno shares them. It’s easy to see how she flinches away from him and his bulk, even if Jeno is a gentle giant, and they’re careful to make his presence obvious before he enters a room with her in it, always staying a considerable distance away out of respect. He knows she knows that they’re doing what they can to help her, but he also suspects that she’s been betrayed too heavily to care. 

He understands that she needs someone to lean on, but he doesn’t know who she wants. Jeno is the one she’s most wary of, but Renjun also knows she ices out Jaemin when he tries to do things for her beyond the bare minimum. Every smile is met with a blank expression, and any question is met with bared teeth. 

While she could turn to any of the other kids as well, that only leaves Renjun as the adult, and even though he would love to help her, he doesn’t know where to start. Doesn’t even know if she wants help, or if their home is just another stop on a long list of temporary shelters, a place for food and water and a roof over her head, not something more, not seeking something stronger. 

Either way, he would understand, yet it doesn’t stop his heart from wanting to fall to pieces.

Sometimes, when he sees the broken children they protect like Hayoon, so deeply rooted in their pain that the light that touches them only burns, he wonders what his role is in this work. What does he do for the kids when Jeno is so sturdy and Jaemin, so loving? What does he have to offer in the midst of both of them and a childhood of broken pieces, ripped to shambles and razed to the ground? 

What is there for him to _say?_

He finishes breakfast shortly thereafter with his head in the clouds, and when he walks out to the long table they have set up in another room, he nearly drops his plates on the floor. 

Hayoon and Mina are seated on the couch together, talking quietly, and Renjun’s heart calms from frantic palpitations to a warmer, smoother beat. Even if Hayoon can’t come to him, he’s glad she has someone she’s warmed up to enough to trust with her voice, if nothing else. 

Mina is one of their oldest girls, nearly eighteen years old, thrown out by her heavily religious parents after rumours went around that she had slept with some of her classmates. She was one of their first self-dubbed “strays”, not legally given away but not ever wanted back, either. Positively brilliant, she’s always been a noona figure to the younger kids, and the small smile she sends him over Hayoon’s shoulder is reassuring. He nods back before going to find the other teenagers. 

Knocking on Wooyoung’s door quietly until he hears an affirming yell, Renjun tells him it’s time to eat and leaves the fourteen-year old with his space. Having lived with twelve other kids in a one-bedroom flat until his parents were evicted and left him, the oldest, in the city for dead, Wooyoung’s bedroom is precious to him as a solitary space he can call his own, and Renjun would hate to intrude on it. 

Finding Jiwoon and Hani is a little harder because they aren’t in their rooms anymore, but he finds them in the bedroom-turned schoolroom kissing and reading a book for their literature class. The partner-girlfriend pair both smile when they see him, even if Hani blushes a little at his knowing look. 

By the time everyone is assembled for breakfast, Jeno is back with the little kids, and he and Jaemin take their food to-go, Jeno’s for a snack and Jaemin’s for sustenance as they wrestle the three littles, nine, seven, and five years old, and a baby into the bathroom for baths. 

Renjun watches his kids talk amongst themselves as they eat, content to just relax and enjoy their presences. They’re talking about some celebrity or something or other, but Renjun’s starting to learn that so many new ones show up so frequently that it's hardly worth keeping track. But, with the teenagers, he’s a little bit less of a father figure and more of a Hyung/Oppa, and he appreciates how comfortable they are with him (even if he only understands like 20% of the conversation). 

Well, except for Hayoon, who waits for Renjun to eat a bite of each different type of food on his plate before eating her own like she always does. Her eyes don’t leave his often, but her arm is placed at an unusual angle next to Mina, whose arm is also stretched out, so he concludes they’re holding hands under the table. 

It’s good. Everyone needs a friend, and progress is good for her. Maybe someday, they’ll be able to talk to each other about anything and everything trivial and pointless until there’s something more than mistrust there. 

Someday. 

Renjun takes Byeol with him to the grocery store, strapping the baby into his harness as he grabs their reusable bags and checks for his car keys. Jaemin had texted him their grocery list, and it was the end of the month so he had a sticky note with the kids’ special treat picks written out on it. 

Going anywhere with a baby is always so stressful for Renjun because of how small they are, but he also knows that they’re quite resilient in most aspects. It doesn’t stop him from checking on Byeol every time he stops at a light, but they make it to the store unscathed. 

Once inside, Byeolie mostly stays quiet from where she’s strapped to his chest, but occasionally she’ll reach out with grabby hands to touch the produce he’s inspecting. Her thin, small fingers wrap around his when he trades her his left hand for a bunch of grapes, and his heart patters just a little bit. 

He’d once told his mother that he’d never have children because he’d be a terrible father, and while he knows that Jaemin, Jeno, and his home’s a little different from that, he doesn’t know what he’d do without the kids in his life anymore. He can’t even _imagine_ being single and kid-less anymore, doesn’t know how he had ever been content in a world where he wasn’t caring for the little ones of the world. 

A woman smiles at him when he and Byeol make their way to the frozen section for the ice pops Hani and Wooyoung had asked for, tangerine and grape respectively, and he nods back, not expecting a conversation to come out of it. Instead, she follows him with another bright smile, a basket tucked on her arm, and Renjun’s half-smile tightens a bit at the corners. 

“Your daughter is very cute!” She stops at his side while he reaches for the frozen pops, biting his lip as he tries to determine the tax. 

“Thank you.” 

“You know, you might want to feed her some more milk or breastfeed more often. She’s awfully thin, and it’s okay for babies to be a bit chubby. She’ll slim down as she grows.” 

Renjun isn’t unaccustomed to getting baby advice from random strangers, it’s quite impossible to escape, in fact, but unlike Jaemin, he doesn’t enjoy sharing his life’s story with random strangers. At the end of the day, he’s still their guardian, and he really does know what he’s doing because he’s not the reason his kids look like skin and bones at first. He also doesn't have a good people-face, and his charm comes and goes with his attitude, so engaging with random women commenting on his skills tends to be more trouble than it’s worth. 

“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you,” Renjun sighes finally, sticking the pops in his basket and smiling at her before walking away. As annoying as it can be, he does know she means no harm (there’s no way she knows that there’s no mother in the picture to breastfeed her), and that there’s a deficit of nutrients for Byeol, but one he’s aware of that stems from months of abuse. They’re working on correcting it, one step at a time. 

After that, Renjun’s mood is a little less chipper, but when he and Byeol pick out a new pack of crayons for one of the littles, her giggles warm him up again until he can’t resist pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. She’s so _warm_ and _small_ and _tiny,_ and Renjun’s enamoured all over again. 

Her eyes are huge compared to her sweet little face, and Renjun always has to remind himself that he might not get to see her grow into them like he watched Jaemin do. She might not be with them quite that long because she was legally placed in their orphanage, not seeking shelter as a stray. But even as his heart wishes to watch her grow up in entirety, those stupid parental instincts he vowed to suppress forever, the cute pucker of her lips and the swell of her button nose are too precious for him to dwell on sad things. 

He used to laugh at Jaemin, Renjun recalls as he places their groceries on the desk for the clerk to scan, when he fawned over small children. He used to tease his husband back when they were still boyfriends and tell him that he was like a middle-aged woman with baby fever, practically vibrating with want every time he saw one, but now he thinks that’s a little unfair considering how whipped he is now. 

Jaemin’s eyes would light up and widen like saucers when he saw children (still do, actually); Renjun’s heart skips beats every time he holds one of the littles age 7 and under. Jaemin would coo and croon in a voice so sweet it ought to cause cavities; Renjun smiles in full dopey-mode whenever they do something cute. 

Honestly, it’s kind of revolting, but he loves it all just the same. Loves _them_ just the same. 

Jeno on the other hand…

Renjun can remember the first baby they received when they opened up their home to children in need. He can remember the pure _terror_ on the lawyer’s face when he saw the little boy all bundled up in a threadbare blanket with strings unravelling, hiding behind the door frame as if the baby was going to bite his head off. Jeno looked like an uninitiated knight being told he had to slay a dragon and claim all of their treasure before sundown: absolutely freaking petrified. 

His eyes would always widen when the newborn would scream with no warning, and diapers and bathing were no-go zones for Jeno after he moved in. Flinching away from their bright eyes was normal, and even after a year of working with them and seeing children, Jeno was still terrified in the most endearing, ridiculous way. 

It took a while to convince Jeno that the baby wasn’t going to break if he touched them, and it took even longer for him to stop looking utterly baffled. But once his husband overcame that, it became smooth sailing. Renjun still has a picture of Jeno holding one of the babies in his arms for the first time with an utterly entranced expression, and he takes it out frequently to remind him that he’s just as bad as the rest of them when the kids push his buttons just right. 

As he’s walking to the car, Byeol starting to nod off on his chest, arms straining with groceries, Renjun can’t help but think that he loves the life he’s made for himself and the spectacular people he’s built into it. When he was younger, was this the life he pictured for himself? Absolutely not. It never was, never would have been. This life isn’t designing chemicals and presenting processes to the higher-ups of a company, but he loves it just the same. 

Giving new futures to kids who were dealt cruel hands, shaping the minds of the future, nurturing and teaching little ones who know that his love isn’t conditional because he _chose_ them, those are the things Renjun loves to do, and he loves the people he does it with. What more is there to ask for? 

Once he’s home with the groceries and Jaemin takes Byeol from him for her nap, he unpacks with Mingyu, the only one of the ‘littles’ who doesn’t take naps anymore, and the boy buzzed around the kitchen with him, babbling about a new art medium he wants to try out. 

“It’s called _pastels,”_ he crows, beaming up at Renjun with round apple cheeks with two little divots carved into them from the force of his smile. “You use fancy crayons and then you draw and then you rub it all around and then it’s called _blend_ it!” 

“Oh wow, that’s really cool, Mingyu-yah. What are you going to draw first?” 

“I don’t know yet! Maybe a bird or Jaemin hyung appa or Jeno hyung appa or Renjun hyung appa…” Mingyu’s voice trails off as his brain starts spinning so fast Renjun’s not sure he’d be able to keep up if he tried, and the way his body is vibrating with excitement would be quite concerning if he hadn’t known his personality was so excitable. 

Once a majority of the groceries are put away (mostly by Renjun because Mingyu’s gotten distracted again), he digs out his bag of monthly speciality things because the boy’s eyeing him with hopeful eyes again. 

“Thank you, Renjun hyung appa!” The little boy looks too excited when Renjun hands him the Crayola crayons that he doesn’t bother to explain to him again that he’s not “Renjun hyung appa” by way of normal speaking conventions and that he doesn’t have to call him anything other than “Renjun” if he doesn’t want to. But, it’s always been a losing battle, and he doesn’t actually mind; in fact, he kind of likes it. 

“I’ve never had something so fancy before,” Mingyu tells him with bright, happy eyes, and Renjun’s heart sinks a little even as he ruffles his hair and takes down a stack of paper for him to draw on. While crayons aren’t a luxury, they’re not exactly high-class tools and having just moved in with them a few months ago, Mingyu hasn’t had very many treats, choosing to spend his wish on having Jaemin make his favourite food for dinner almost every time. 

“Have fun, Mingyu-yah!” Renjun calls after him as he races off to god knows where to practice his art. 

After the boy’s gone, the kitchen’s quiet again, just the low electrical hum of appliances buzzing in his ears as he packs away the grocery bags and gets ready to take his satchel of goodies to the other kids. He’s gotten the bags tucked away and the shoe rack straightened before a pair of arms are wrapping around his waist and a chin’s hooking over his shoulder. 

Renjun hums while Jaemin kisses lightly at his jawline, hands coming up to clasp his arms around him. “How are the kids?” 

“They’re good,” Jaemin mumbles between kisses, feathery and gentle, placed all over his skin. “The teenagers are going to the library for a science study session later, and the kiddos are taking their naps right now. Jen’s passed out with Byeolie in the nursery, but despite what he’s gonna try to tell you, he was already asleep when I brought her in.” Jaemin rocks him back and forth with a happy sigh that sends hot breath ghosting over the shell of his ear until Renjun can’t take it anymore and wiggles his way out of his husband’s hold so he can face him. 

“And what about you?” He teases, pressing his finger to Jaemin’s lips when they pucker up expectantly. “How are you holding up?” 

“Hm, same old, same old I suppose. I’m pretty stressed about Hayoon, but you already knew that. I also heard from Jeno earlier today that there are some kids in the system who are looking for a way out, so that’s adding to my complex.” Jaemin’s pretty eyes flutter open from where he’d shut them in hopes for a kiss, and his smile is crooked, lopsided and self-deprecating, but adorable despite it all. 

He’s so breathtakingly handsome; it’s almost infuriating. 

Renjun stands up just a _little_ on his tippy toes and tugs Jaemin’s head down for the light, sweet kiss he was expecting before pressing their foreheads together to relish in his closeness. Although they sleep together in the same bed and live in the same house, intimate and blissfully quiet moments between them are few and far in between, especially with the whirlwind that their home has been recently. 

Between sending off two of their older kids to local universities on scholarships and taking in Mingyu and Hayoon within the month, things have been a little crazy and it’s hard to take the time to step back and just be Jaemin and Renjun again, hopelessly in love for what’s about to be seven years. 

Wrapped up in Jaemin’s arms, his head tucked into his chest, is one of Renjun’s favourite places to be, and he enjoys it to the fullest as Jaemin spins them in small, languid circles, hands clasped over the small of his back, stars in his eyes. 

“I love you, you know?” Jaemin murmurs into his hair, suddenly, after a while of swaying around in their linoleum-floored, air-dry tile kitchen. “Like, sometimes I think my heart’s going to explode with how much I love you, and I know you think the kids are my first priority, and I guess they are, but you’re always at the forefront of my mind, you know? Maybe it’s just because I’ve been feeling the stress and not really being here fully from a mental capacity, but I feel like I wasn’t telling you that enough so I just...wanted to say that I love you, Renjun.” 

Momentarily floored, Renjun can’t even think, let alone come up with an adequate response to Jaemin’s confession. Sweet as honey, as always, and, as always, Renjun’s at a loss for words. Honestly, it’s always been like this because even when they pushed and pulled at the beginning of their relationship, whether they loved each other was never in question. 

His light, one of two loves of his life, in his arms again in such a boring, mundane setting feels like champagne bubbles and fireworks exploding inside his stomach, bursting up through his chest and filling his mouth with sparklers and stars. 

“I love you too, Nana. So much, seriously, sometimes I think I’ll—”

Their moment is interrupted by Jiwoon poking their head into the kitchen to announce the teenagers’ departure, fluffy black bangs tumbling into their eyes as a reminder that Renjun needs to cut their fringe again. 

“Hey Renjun-ssi, Jaemin-ssi, we’re heading out now.” They smile at the two of them and don't gag how Hani would, and Renjun appreciates it because Jaemin’s warm and he’s not ready to let go just yet, leaning in to rest his head on Jaemin’s chest. 

“That’s fine, be careful, okay?” Jaemin smiles at them, and Jiwoon ducks into the kitchen to kiss both of their cheeks. 

“We will be!” As they’re ducking out the door, Hani and Mina flash peace signs at them over Jiwoon’s shoulder, and they call, “love you!” 

“Love you, too!” Both Jaemin and Renjun giggle at their synchronized ‘parent voices’, but watching the kids go out on their own is a sort of nostalgic and proud moment at the same time. It really is hard to believe that they’re so old already, and soon they’ll be spreading their own wings to fly away from the nest. Sometimes it’s hard to believe they’ve had kids who have lived with them for so long that they’ll be legal before they’re adopted. 

Renjun glances at Jaemin right after he thinks about it because if he’s on that train of thought, so is his husband and that means he’s falling into a negative headspace again. 

To his surprise though, Jaemin’s smiling faintly, hands kneading a little at his back until he catches Renjun’s eyes on him, looking up through his eyelashes. 

“I’m okay, honey. I know they’ll keep in touch when they grow up.” Jaemin gives a little half-shrug. “I’ve already gone through more than ten adoptions, university send-offs will be a breeze.” Even so, there’s a sad tinge to his voice, but Renjun lets him go check on the sleeping toddlers anyway with a kiss and a hand-squeeze. 

He’s learned over the years that he can’t be in Jaemin’s mind, but he can be his support system and take care of him as best he can, and if his husband needs him, he knows he can come to Renjun or Jeno, both. 

Speaking of Jeno, Renjun’s on his way to check on him and Byeol when he hears crying in Hyunwoo’s room, shrill like a banshee and just as loud, if not louder. His feet all but fly him to the door, worrying seeping into every pore as he knocks gently on the door before opening it. 

He’s not sure what he was expecting, but the soft glow of the train night light illuminating the room doesn’t go with the shrill cries piercing his ears. The seven-year-old is curled up in the fetal position on his bed, sheets wrapped around his neck and sobbing wholeheartedly into the quilted blanket that Renjun’s mother made him when he was only four years old. 

When Hyunwoo first arrived, nothing was smooth sailing, in more ways than one. Their clothes would hang off his skinny frame no matter how much Renjun took in the hems, and his eyes always looked like hollows carved into his head, in more ways than one. Haunted shapes and specks of ghosts flitted through his eyes, less than a handful of years old, yet the officials who brought him in had no information about his former life. 

Just a few nights into his stay with them, Renjun, Jaemin, and Jeno were relaxing in bed and cuddling with the television on when piercing screams shattered through the night. He remembers bolting out of bed, nearly breaking Jeno’s arm in the process, begging in his head over and over again that they won’t lose a kid as he raced through the hall. 

Trypanophobia. The fear of needles. 

Everyone has a story, but after that night, Renjun was able to pierce together Hyunwoo’s, the toddler sleeping in bed with them every night until the nightmares subsided, sipping on Jaemin’s tea with a revolted expression, bottom lip full and pouty and petulant. 

Used-to-be-nice mother, deadbeat father; mum got doped up on crack until it didn’t cut it anymore, moved to shooting up heroin after he left. Shared some needles, contracted some diseases, and overdosed on purpose as a suicide when cutting her wrists didn’t finish it. 

He’s not sure exactly how the child service workers found him, but from the way his kid screams about blood and needles, it wasn’t clean and it certainly wasn’t forgettable. 

So, he has a pretty good idea of what’s going through Hyunwoo’s head when he sinks onto the mattress next to him and scoops him up into his arms. The little boy falls in easily, as pliable as a rag doll, and his head nestles into the space between Renjun’s chest and his bicep, arms cradling him close. He whimpers when the blanket falls off, and Renjun wraps him up hastily, making sure his whole body is engulfed by the patchwork fabric. He remembers the last time Hyunwoo freaked out when any of his skin was showing, screaming and sobbing with Jaemin until Renjun burst in. 

“Shh, it’s okay, baby,” Renjun murmurs, lips to his forehead as he strokes down the back of his head and tries to emanate enough soothing vibes that Hyunwoo stops trembling. It’s almost as if he’s holding an earthquake personified in his arms, and he doesn’t really know what to do other than to hold on and be an anchor amid the panic. “You’re safe here. I’ve got you.” 

In a Herculean effort, he forces his breaths to be smooth and even, willing his heartbeat into a steady, rumbling bass drum. He’s read that heartbeats soothe distressed children, and it’s never failed him with his kids yet. 

Slowly, he talks Hyunwoo down from the panic attack and his nightmares, alternating between gentle kisses, rocking back and forth, and murmuring reassuring phrases and comforting nonsense that he’s seen Jaemin use before. 

Somehow, Renjun’s style works, and before he knows it, the child’s asleep in his arms, tears still drying on his red-ripened cheeks. 

It takes some skilful manoeuvring to stand up with Hyunwoo in his arms, and it’s even harder to walk slowly through the halls to his own bedroom where he tucks him in securely, another night light in the corner, blankets galore atop the mattress. 

If he wants to tell Renjun about it later, he can, but there’s something rewarding about being able to calm Hyunwoo down. Renjun’s gotten used to a different type of providing, and he’s so happy to have been able to do this for one of the kids. It’s always scary when they’re hurting and upset...

Physical affection has always been a bit of a struggle for him and his typical low-key violent demeanour, but when it comes to holding a child, one of his kids, through the memory of one of the worst experiences of their lives? No questions asked, it’s second nature. That doesn’t change the hormonal high he gets from it and the internal joy, but it makes him feel a bit better to be able to chalk it up to the rational. 

He knows love isn’t rational by any means, but even after all these years, paternal instincts are frightening when it comes to these things, things that Jaemin usually handles with grace and kindness. Things that Jeno can usually bumble his way through in the most sincere of ways. Not the awkward taught-and-impersonal way Renjun’s learned to deal with it. 

But he’s growing and adapting as he goes, and that’s really all he can do. 

Renjun presses a kiss to Hyunwoo’s hair before slipping out the door to work on the rest of his duties.

Byeol and Jeno are fast asleep in the feeding chair, both with their mouths open and pink tongues exposed to the air. Renjun finds himself wondering idly if everyone in his house sleeps with their mouth open or what, as he scoops up some of the baby formula and warms it up in the pitcher of water he’d brought with him. 

His husband and their baby snuffle at the exact same time in a way that makes Renjun’s breath catch in his throat, frozen in place. His heart feels swollen more often than not anymore, but there are some days where every little thing just blows him away, and he guesses this is just another one. 

Waking up Jeno is like trying to wake up a corpse, and it isn’t until Renjun resorts to pinching his arm that he wakes up, flinching awake with a gruff and gravelly “wha?” 

“Good morning, handsome,” Renjun teases, leaning in for a kiss. Jeno hums, still trying to escape the sleep clinging to his mind, but he meets him half-way, a little too sloppy and wet to be sweet, but Renjun doesn’t mind. He kisses Jeno one more time before opening his eyes and checking on the baby in his husband’s arms, only to find her already looking up at him. She coos, and it seems to snap Jeno out of his sleep-induced fog, his eyes roaming from Renjun’s face to the bottle of formula in his hand. 

“Feeding time,” Renjun adds helpfully, shaking the bottle a bit and looking pointedly at Jeno. 

“Wait,” Jeno whines, clutching Byeol to his chest and smushing his cheek to the top of her head where her hair’s just starting to come in. “She’s so warm though!” He cuddles the baby closer, eyes crinkling at the corners. 

Renjun raises an eyebrow. “Can you breastfeed a baby, Jeno?” 

Jeno lets out a strangled sound. “No, but...Just one more minute? Please?” Jeno may love cats more than he loves dogs, but his puppy dog eyes are the most persuasive, pitiful things in the world, and Renjun would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little swayed. But the threat of a screaming baby in his future wins out over Jeno’s innate adorableness, a trait that’s clung to him incessantly over the years, even though they’re already skimming their thirties, and he puts his hands on his hips in that way that brooks no argument. 

“No, you can either hand her to me or take the bottle, Jen. She needs to be fed before it gets too late or she’ll be all fussy and unhappy later, and I can tell you right now, I am not dragging my ass out of bed at one o’clock in the morning because you didn’t feed Byeol on time.” 

Jeno huffs again, but he hops out of the chair and passes the baby off to Renjun, helping him settle down and get the spill-cloth positioned properly.

With Byeol cooing and her head nestled into the crook between his forearm and elbow, Renjun can’t help the fond smile that splits across his lips like sunshine in the middle of a storm, running his fingertip over her tiny, straight nose. He originally thought he’d be overly concerned with how _disgusting_ babies were when they officially applied to care for children under one year old, but he hadn’t expected to be so taken with their _tininess._ Their fingers, their toes, their noses, eyes, mouths, bodies, everything about them was so small-scale and precious in a way that shouldn’t make his hormones happy but does. 

Jeno’s hand comes to rest on his shoulder, sitting on the edge of the feeding chair’s arm as he hands the bottle to Renjun with a scowl. “You know, you were so mean to me to make me give up our Byeolie, but here you are, not feeding her and petting her nose. This is a ridiculous double-standard.” Another dramatic sigh follows, but the effect is offset by the amusement twinkling his eyes. 

Renjun makes a face that’s meant for Jeno but directed at Byeol who blinks up at him with her huge, owlish eyes and _giggles_ , reaching up to tug at a lock of fringe that’s fallen into his eyes. It baffles him how one person can be so perfect already, his throat thick with stupid _emotions_. Byeol doesn’t know, and she gurgles between laughing, thrashing her little arm around until Renjun snaps out of his stupor and accepts the bottle from Jeno, gently coaxing it into her mouth. 

Once she’s happy and satiated, he can focus on his husband again. 

“How was the park? And thank you, by the way.” Renjun glances over at Jeno, who flashes him a smile, fingers stilling in his hair. 

“You’re absolutely welcome. And it was fun. The boys liked playing frisbee.” 

“Mm, yay. That’s good. Nana and I mostly just cooked and did errands, although I’m not sure if there was something else I forgot to do.” Jeno hums in acknowledgement, quietly thoughtful like he always is, and they sit in a few beats of silence before his husband starts to talk again. 

“You’re a good dad, Junie,” Jeno murmurs into his ear, low and rumbly in the best of ways. His thumb is stroking over the nape of Renjun’s neck lazily as they both watch Byeol suck on her bottle, lost in baby-heaven. 

“You know I’m not actually-” Renjun starts to protest, but it dies rather quickly on his lips, his insecurities shut down by Jeno in a heartbeat as his husband squeezes at his shoulder again and lightly flicks the side of his neck. 

“You know as well as I do that you think of yourself as their dad in your mind, and you would be correct. You know that. They don’t have any other father figures, Renjun, and the ones they had definitely weren’t cut out for the job.” Jeno scrunches up his nose at him to convey his distaste with Renjun’s protest. He looks vaguely like an angry chipmunk, with narrowed eyes and puffed-out cheeks. 

And then Renjun’s suddenly a little bit paralyzed, hot under the collar, adjusting Byeol in his arms so she’s sitting up a little bit higher to avoid having to talk to Jeno with a lump in his throat. His head feels a little lighter, heart in his throat because Jeno’s so, so nice, but this is a conversation he’s not sure he wants to have. It’s too at odds with the thoughts in his head. 

“You take care of them like they’re going to be yours forever, Renjun,” Jeno continues, oblivious to, or too kind to acknowledge, the uncomfortable air about him. “They _are_ your kids, and you _are_ their dad. Even if they get new parents someday, or if they stay with us forever, they’ll always have a piece of us to look back on, just like this.” 

This, right here, is what Renjun has _always_ been afraid of. Of not being able to do enough, of failing the kids who have lost so much and fallen so far from the lives they deserved to have. They are why he can’t be a father and can’t care for kids because even when he tries, when the dust settles and the air clears...what if he fails them? What if their next parents make his time with them seem like hell, entirely insignificant because they _hadn’t done enough?_

The doubts aren’t strong often. Usually, he’s able to recognize the signs and curb them before they spin away from him because he knows he must be doing something right if Hyunwoo still calls for him at night and Byeol still giggles with him and so many other things, but it’s hard sometimes when it’s put in his face like this. 

The baby in his arms feels like an anchor, chaining him down to the chair even as he knows he loves her sneaky personality and bright, hopeful eyes, and it catches in his throat when he speaks. 

“Okay, so I’m their father-figure, but what do I do that’s _good_ for them? I don’t think common human decency is something to be particularly proud of, Jeno.” Thick, suffocating air clogs up his throat, and he can see it in Jeno’s eyes, the sadness and the pain, and it only makes him feel worse because he’s caused it in his husband, one of the people he loves most. 

Byeol seems to sense the tense mood of the room, and the baby hiccups around her bottle, whining just a little bit as she lets go of the squishy silicone. Renjun shushes her quietly and holds her a little more securely, rocking back and forth a little to soothe her.

With his hand cradling the side of her head and petting over her ear, Byeol squirms a little but cooperates, cooing and kicking her legs. Her head bobbles a little in a way that’s reminiscent of when she was first developing enough strength to keep her head up, and the way her head collides with his chest feels like two stars colliding, sending up a shower of sparks and fire everywhere. 

He feels so _right_ when he’s with the kids, but he feels so _wrong_ in so many of the things he does. 

Jeno may be right that he’s their father-figure and thinks of them as his kids in his mind, but he’s far from their best dad. Jaemin’s sweeter, Jeno’s nicer, both of them have him beat by the thousands. Much as he loves them, he knows he can’t compete with his husbands in their hearts, and honestly, he doesn’t mind. He just wishes he was able to do more for them to show just how much it is he loves them. 

“There.” Jeno interrupts Renjun’s thoughts and nudges his shoulder. “You do that for Byeolie, right there.” 

“What?” Renjun glances up at Jeno, bewildered, and then back down at the baby in his arms, trying to glean what it is that he’s doing that’s unusual. 

“You’re holding her head up so she doesn’t have to.” Jeno smiles at him, saccharine and sweet, and when Renjun opens his mouth to explain, a single long finger is pressed to his lips. “No, don’t even!” He scolds, laughing fondly. “I would have never noticed that she was having trouble because it’s such a small detail, and Jaemin would have already come asking for help by now because Byeol doesn’t like the way he holds her. 

“You do all this for the kids without even realizing it, Renjun, because that’s who you _are._ You care for people quietly and on the down-low, taking stock of their every need, want, and habit in order to do better by them the next time. Whatever bullshit you’re formulating in your head about Jaemin being better at caretaking than you and me being better at god knows what, stop it! You do just as much for them as we do, and besides! Aren’t you always the one telling Nana to take it easy on himself? Maybe you should heed your own advice, love.” Jeno pulls his head in for an affectionately rough hair-ruffle and temple-kiss, slinging his arm around his shoulders and leaning in closer on the chair. 

“You’re just as important as we are, Renjunnie. Please don’t forget that. The kids love you too, and they know you love them.” 

Renjun’s protests die on his tongue quietly, sputtering out into embers as he tucks himself into Jeno’s side and adjusts the bottle in Byeol’s mouth. He’s never been very good at loving himself, but he thinks Jeno’s words have made a dent in his perception. They’re not enough to heal him, make him believe it all with surety, but he can at least acknowledge the drops. He thinks his mother used to have a saying about it being hard to fill a bucket without any raindrops, and he thinks that Jeno’s praise has started the shower. 

Maybe eventually, his bucket will be brimming. 

But until then...

He holds Byeolie a little bit closer and pets over her forehead and the sparse hairs there with his thumb, leaning over to press a kiss to Jeno’s cheek. 

“Have I ever told you I love you?” 

Jeno’s eyes crinkle into moons, and his laugh sounds like starlight. 

Renjun’s just finished running the laundry when he hears a knock on the door. A quick glance at his watch confirms that it’s still not time to chop up vegetables for Jaemin’s soy sauce fried rice, and he hefts the basket up into his arms and turns around. 

“Yes? Oh, hello, Hayoon-ah. Can I help you?” Renjun smiles at her, slipping past her and into his bedroom with the basket to dump it on the bed. They’d decided a while ago that it was easier to keep the laundry nearby because of _nighttime_ activities and for easy-access when one of the little kids inevitably wet the bed, and once he settles on the bed, he invites Hayoon over to sit with him. 

She slinks into the room slowly, taking stock of everything, even though Renjun’s sure she’s already scoped it out before because they don’t believe in closing off their room to the kids. For a moment, he thinks she’s going to settle on the futon in the corner that the littles use to cuddle one of them when it’s super late and they have a bad dream and don’t want to crawl into the big bed. 

But, Hayoon surprises him, instead perching on the bed too. She’s not sitting close by any means, barely even on top of the covers, but she’s not in the corner of the room, and it makes Renjun happy to see it. Even still, he’s careful to keep it in just in case she thinks he’s mocking her. Eggshells aren’t his favourite path to walk, but he can tiptoe across just the same as he can sprint. 

“Huang Renjun,” Hayoon says after Renjun starts sorting the socks into piles, all of them colour-coded for ease. Hani’s blue ones have holes in them already, and one of Kwanghee’s seem to be _chewed on_. Renjun tucks them both into their respective piles with a sigh, waiting for Hayoon to continue. 

“You’re a biochemistry major, and you graduated from Yonsei. Moved to Korea when you were fifteen. Worked an internship in a lab for a few years before pretty much leaving it all to do this. Why?” 

Renjun picks up a pair of boxers and folds it over, thinking for a moment. “I loved the idea of changing lives. Not just with chemicals and scientific discoveries, but hand in hand with the people I’d be helping.” He frowns. “And it’s not as if I don’t work anymore,” he adds on with a pout that goes ignored. 

“But why kids? What would you get out of this?” Hayoon’s eyes are narrowed, voice sharp and tone accusatory. 

To that, Renjun shrugs easily, tossing her a half-smile that she doesn’t flinch away from. “I loved Jaemin, and Jaemin loves kids. It came naturally.” 

Hayoon snorts, but she scoots a little closer. Renjun’s lips twitch, but he keeps it under control when she reaches out to help him organize the socks, picking up a pair of Jaemin’s pink, fuzzy leg warmers. 

Somewhere outside, a pan clatters to the ground, metallic and ringing before the thudding of feet follows after it, shrieks and giggles following. Jeno’s voice rings out over them telling them not to run in the kitchen, and Renjun’s helpless when his lips stretch out into a grin, folding over a bra that belongs to one of the girls. They usually try to keep their laundry separate, but they must have been running out of time if they threw it into the family pile. 

He doesn’t miss how Hayoon’s eyes travel over the garment to him, head cocked and studying his every move. 

“Is that yours?” She asks with a straight face, collecting his and Jeno’s socks into a checkerboard coloured pile. 

Renjun sputters, nearly dropping the bra on the floor before regaining his wits and muttering, very dignified, very mature, “no.” When he steals a peek at her from the corner of his eye, she’s smothering a smile that makes her face come alive, even as she stares resolutely at her lap. 

“I like you.” Had Renjun not been paying attention, her declaration, barely more than a brush of air, would have missed him. As it is, however, Renjun is paying astute attention to Hayoon’s every move, much in the way she’s watching him, and he hears it clearly. 

“Hm?” is what he settles on, enough of an acknowledgement so that she knows he heard something, but not confrontational enough to demand an answer; the perfect loophole that she’d be welcome to take. Even though his eyes are on the clothes he’s folding, his focus is on the girl across the bed from him, just a little over an arm’s length away. This is the closest she’s ever gotten to him, and it gives him more hope than he should be allowing himself to feel. 

Hayoon sighs so loud that Renjun thinks he felt it in his soul, and when she stands up, he thinks he’s lost, disappointment dropping like a stone into his stomach, but when she comes _closer_ to him instead of fleeing, his heart stops in his chest. 

She curls up on the bed next to him where he’s perched up by the headboard, legs curling up under her chin as she wraps her arms around them. Her expression is guarded, Renjun’s not sure it’ll ever _not_ be, but her proximity speaks volumes already. 

He’s not sure if he doesn’t look threatening to her, or if it’s because of something else he did, but he’s grateful, at least, that she feels comfortable enough to be close to one of the adults in the house. She doesn’t have to trust him or accept him, but it relieves him to know that she could lean on him as well if she needs to. Seems like she could want to, even. 

“What is it like?” She asks abruptly, hiding her face behind her knees. 

Renjun sets down his laundry slowly, heart racing, and gives her his full attention, keeping an open posture and relaxed body language. He reminds himself that he doesn’t know her story and doesn’t even know her age, knows nothing about her really, other than how she likes her eggs. Any chance to discover more about her is valuable because he wants her to know that they can be her home if she wants to. She doesn’t have to wander anymore like he knows she has, and she doesn’t need to survive the cold streets at night anymore. In front of him is a butterfly, small, fragile, and fleeting, and his palms are open, waiting and ready to hold it if it wants. 

_A heartbeat, a breath, and shudder, and-_

Hayoon is in motion suddenly, and Renjun can’t even register the moment before there’s a head in his lap, long, damaged hair spilling over his legs as she curls up next to him, tucked up like a hedgehog but with her head in his lap, vulnerable. She’s moved the clothes to the side, and her hand is braced on his thigh, face turned away from him where he can’t see it behind all of her hair. 

_She trusts me_ . Renjun’s pulse is hammering in his ears, hands still in the air, hovering over her head, itching to reach down and brush over it, spill a little love into a girl who’s clearly not had enough of it. _Safety._

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Hayoon reaches up, nails digging into his arm, and drags his hands down into her hair, scooting around a little as she settles back in. Renjun’s not sure he’s breathing when he strokes down her hair for the first time, tucking it gently behind her ear before repeating it. 

Where Byeol needs his arms around her to be secure and safe, Hayoon doesn’t, yet she sought him out for just that. All of her prickly personality that’s so at odds with Jaemin and Jeno, yet so at home in Renjun, who has been far too sharp in his lifetime to not understand how easy it can be to barb rather than break. 

“What is what like?” He ventures after a little while, counting the puffs of breath against his leg in his head. She’s breathing fast, not entirely comfortable, and he pets through her hair a little softer, fingers sliding through easily, combing out tangles deftly. He knows better than to press, so he’ll offer up what she seems to treasure most: information. 

“Being in love.” Her fingernails dig into the skin of his thigh, and Renjun sucks in a breath, not in pain but surprise. He hadn’t been expecting the question, nor one so multifaceted and complex. 

“Hm. Well. It can be the most rewarding thing in the world, or the most painful. There are some days where it feels like your heart is being sliced to pieces with shrapnel, and there are others where it feels like walking on air and tripping on sunshine. For me...it’s something that lingers incessantly, like a headache you can’t shake, as _beautifully_ romantic as that sounds. They complete me and make me better in a way that sounds ridiculous, but makes sense when you feel it. It’s not as cruel as to say we were always missing a piece of ourselves, but more like there was an edge where something could be if we wanted it there, and they were the puzzle piece that clipped in to lift me even higher.” 

“That sounds really beautiful.” Hayoon sounds wistful, sad, as if she’s lost something important, and Renjun gives her a little squeeze, not realizing it pushes the boundary until she’s tensing up in his arms before slowly relaxing again, hackles lowering. 

“Does it ever hurt?”

“Sometimes. But if it’s the right person, the cracks can heal.” Renjun still remembers the first fight he and Jaemin had, sleeping in their bed alone for the first time without him, not because he was away or out of town, but by choice, knowing his boyfriend was just mere metres away, curled up on their too-small couch. It had taken a few days to mend their cracks, admit their flaws, but they’d bounced back stronger than ever. 

“I don’t know if I want that.” An admission that’s as thin as a piece of paper and just as easily ripped, and Hayoon’s voice cracks on the last word, trembling. Only seven words, but it feels as if Renjun holds a heart in his hands, battered, bruised, and bleeding, mere seconds away from falling apart. Resolve hits him like a wrecking ball, and Renjun holds her a little closer and pretends he can’t feel the tear that rolls onto his thigh, soaking into the thin material of his pants. 

He can feel the hurt and feel the pain, but with time and a lot of love, some of the hurt can be healed until it’s nothing more than a shadow of what it was. Renjun has every intention of loving her until she can’t be haunted anymore. 

“And that’s okay too, Hayoonie.” 

Renjun had dried Hayoon’s tears until they stopped falling, held her until her shakes had subsided and her consciousness fell into sleep. Now that it’s getting darker and dinner is on the horizon, he can think for a little bit and reflect on his day. 

His soul is soothed now, the plague of parental doubts quelled for the moment by a culmination of things. There are Jaemin and Jeno, his better halves, and the kids, Hayoon, Wooyoung, Hyunwoo, and everyone in between. Although unfortunate and draining, it’s normal to have bad days in his line of work, in the lifestyle he’s chosen for himself, whether it’s taking in kids who are thrown out by their parents without the paperwork or whether it’s gaining custody over those that do have the parchment; he knows that it’ll always ebb and flow. 

He’ll feel experienced. He’ll feel lost. He’ll hurt with them, smile with them; comfort them, sob with them. 

His bucket of self-worth might be a puddle, but his love has always been overflowing out of the pail, and with his candle and his mirror to guide him, he can’t imagine not being able to find his own way. 

Maybe this is who he is, he thinks. The one between the sweet and the sturdy in a way that’s just right. He balances out their light with his measure of darkness, and he’s the one who stabilizes their brightness with his quiet calm. They all care for the kids in the same way, and they know Renjun loves them more than they could ever fathom. Even if they move away, he will love them forever. 

His husbands may be beacons of light, and he might not know where his own light comes from, but raising shining stars of potential and coaxing light out of the darkest places is what he loves to do best, and it’s what he’s made for. 

Jaemin comes in some time after Hayoon falls asleep and smiles at him with his beautiful brown eyes, pressing a kiss to his cheek while Jeno lingers in the doorway. 

“Did you have a good day, beautiful?” 

“I did, thank you,” Renjun murmurs back, eyes bright and brilliant.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading~ Feel free to leave me a comment or a kudos to let me know how you felt! Other than that...take care, everyone~ best wishes! <3
> 
> Twitter: @MateStardust


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